


Wild Ones

by Plaided_Ani



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Hair Pulling, NSFW, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 14:11:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15317211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plaided_Ani/pseuds/Plaided_Ani
Summary: Request:  How about reader has butt length hair and Dean accidentally finds readers hair pulling kink.. smut?





	Wild Ones

**Author's Note:**

> This is for @maddiepants. I hope I didn’t disappoint. (;
> 
> Inspired by Wild Ones by Bahari.

You mother loved your hair and made sure you took good care of it. She’d take you to get haircuts often since it grew like weeds, but when you were old enough to wash and comb out the tangles, you asked her to let it grow. And it grew and grew until you it hit your hips and that was as much as you could handle it.

As a hunter, it was dangerous to have long hair, anyone or anything could grab it, you could get it snagged on something and it would be your downfall. But you were careful, you often kept it in buns when you were out running about, chasing the bad and being the hero.

That's how your friendship with Sam began. As silly as it was, you two shared hair treatments, hair ties, often went to the barber shop together to get a shampoo and trim. Dean thought it was outright adorable and thought the world of you for getting along with his brother while you and he fucked like animals when Sammy wasn’t around and sometimes even when he was.

You were stuck in the woods, tracking down a feral werewolf in the middle of the July in the bogs of Louisiana. You opted for shorts and a tank top under flannel, sleeves rolled up as high as they could go, sweat soaked through no matter how many times you tried to fan yourself. And your hair? You pulled it up in a bun as you often did, but the constant bobbing of it as you walked had it continually slipping out of its hold and you had to wrestle with it as you trekked through the woods, foul mood growing with each time you had to twist and pull and try to pin it down.

“If you keep pulling on it, it’s going to fall off,” Dean teased as you two split off from Sam to take a fork in the path.

“Yeah, well, that’s what I said about your dick and you still have yours,” you quipped, twisting your hair and putting it into yet another bun.

Dean laughed, the gravely baritone sent nearby creatures running, but it rippled over your skin like the summer heat and your skin flushed a little darker. “Good thing, too, we’re going to need it later.”

“Don’t start,” you whined, eyes trained on the treeline for your prey. “It’s hot, I’m sweaty, I just want to kill this thing and get back to the AC.”

“The only thing that’s hot right now is you in those shorts.” You felt a hand swat at your behind, the fingers catching the underside of your cheeks thanks to the high cut of the jean fabric. Dean had complained earlier about how short they were, but now, he was obviously having second thoughts. “That’s gotta be jam, baby, because jelly don’t shake like that.”

You gagged and stopped in your tracks, laughing at the lascivious grin on his face despite his horrible pickup line. He walked right into you, chest to chest and his hands found your hips. “You need to stop,” you rolled your eyes, but his mouth found yours and regardless of the heat, you pulled him closer and groaned into his mouth.

“Can’t stop if you keep sounding so pretty, sweetheart,” he murmured against your lips. His hands cupped your ass over the thin fabric of your shorts and squeezed. You rolled your hips against his in response and your tongues danced between your lips while your fingers dragged through his hair.

A twig snapped off to the side and both of you immediately stopped, hunter mode activated. You parted easily and Dean took the lead to scout out the noise. When a small fawn hopped away, you relaxed and pushed back a stray hair from your face. “Let’s go, Romeo,” you grinned and took his hand to lead him back to the path.

You walked along the trail and caught no sign of your target and when you met up with Sam at a camp clearing, neither did he. Since the sun was setting and you all three were tired from your hikes, you made camp. Dean went off for firewood and you helped Sam with the tents.

Fire set up and after a quick dinner, Sam decided to turn in early because he knew that if he didn’t, he’d have to listen to the both of you for the rest of night. Sometimes you felt bad for keeping him up at night with your noise, but other times, like the present with Dean kissing along your sweat slick neck, you didn’t a single fuck.

“We’re going to die,” you told Dean when he pulled off your overshirt and tossed it near the tent you shared.

“Yeah, why’s that?” He had you in his lap, your back to his chest, his hands slowly pushed up your tank top, stopping just as he reached the bottom of your breasts.

“Gonna get distracted. We’re supposed to be on watch,” you reminded him. Your hands covered his and guided up further up your torso, the fabric bunched up as it went and exposed your bra covered chest to the world.

Dean nosed along your shoulder and kissed at the exposed skin. “We are watching. We’re just occupying our time while we do it.” His fingers hooked under the fabric and pulled down the white cotton. The evening heat was no cooler than your skin, but your nipples are at attention and Dean grinned against the crook of your neck. “See? I’m not the only one who wants to play.”

The tips of his forefingers circled your dusty areolas before spiraling towards your harden nubs, lightly brushing over them in a slow, deliberate pace with the ghost of a touch. You whined and arched forward for friction, but he gave you none, so you pressed back and ground your ass into his groin to earn a feral growl. “Are you the werewolf we should be hunting,” you teased.

“Maybe,” he grunted. His hands fell from your breasts to your hips and pulled you as far back as you could go to thrust shamelessly against you. “You gonna make me howl at the moon?”

You caught your bottom lip between your teeth and took one of his hands into yours, sliding it from your hip to your center, soaked and quivering for release. “If you bite me and claim me as yours.”

His large hand cupped your core and his fingers danced along the covered folds, but you could feel the heat from his touch and it sent shockwaves through your body. Your head fell back against his shoulder and he bit at your neck as he massaged you through your shorts. “Lose ‘em.”

Not needing to be told twice, you pulled away from him and shed your clothes while he peeled out of his layers, placing them carefully on the ground in his lust clouded haze. He sat back down on his makeshift blanket and you climbed back into his lap to face him, nothing on but the band in your hair.

“Fucking beautiful,” he whispered, his haunting touch returned, running down your sides and to your hips. “You look like a goddess.” You flushed impossibly darker at his praise, but you ate it up. 

“Goddess of the wolves?” You smiled down at him and grabbed at his cock, stroking the thick, hard length. Dean moaned in response, his head lulled back and his lips parted with graveled moans dancing in his throat. “Should I get you to howl, Dean? Praise me and worship me like the goddess I am?”

His eyes fluttered open and stared at you as you lined him up. The both of you watched as you sank down on him, taking every inch into you with a melodic hum of need. Fully seated, he pulled you down for a kiss, his hands tangled into the mess of your hair while you lapped into each others mouths. His fingers worked your hair tie free and two handfuls of your long, thick locks were twisted in two meaty hands and he pulled as you lifted and sank onto him.

You tore your mouth away and moaned, a sinful bay as he pulled at your scalp, fucking into you each time you slid down onto him. He tugged on your hair again, another sinful lament trilled from your parted lips and you rolled your hips and little harder. “Sing for me,” he rasped into the hollow of your throat. 

He pulled and tugged, your head tossed back as your body rolled against him like the waves of pleasure crashing through you. And you sang for him, a symphony of your passion, your love, your need of everything that was Dean. You sang until the two of you became one, crying out into the moonlight night, praising your bodies until they were spent and desperate for air.

When he untangled his fingers from your hair, he soothed your scalp with a gentle massage. “I didn’t know that was a thing,” he grinned up at you cheekily, feeling your bodies parting.

“Didn’t know it was either,” you shrugged and kissed the sweat from his nose, “but I guess it is now.”

“You know,” he said as nonchalantly as he could, cleaning up the both of you with his shirt, “I have a thing for pigtails and short skirts.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes, but grin on your face told him you would consider it.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr: @plaided-ani


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